


Seb was here

by LittleChaosChao



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst and Tragedy, Childhood Trauma, Dark Past, Depression, Dissociation, Drug Abuse, Emetophobia, Gen, Hemophobia, Homophobic Language, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Intoxication, Oops, Overdosing, Possibly Unrequited Love, References to Canon, Self-Esteem Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Trains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 15:32:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16895259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleChaosChao/pseuds/LittleChaosChao
Summary: Sometimes the weight of the world hits you like a freight train.°~~~~°~~~~°~~~~°~~~~°"When I was younger I'd run out to the railroad whenever I heard a train coming. Whatever happened to those days...? *sigh*"





	Seb was here

**Author's Note:**

> ¡Bienvenides, empollónes!
> 
> I wrote this while sitting in my room listening to police sirens, my brother talking shit about his "t*anny sister" (that's me, y'all!), and the train that passes through in my town every day and night.
> 
> itstimesliketheseiwishistilltookdiazepam
> 
> It's chill tho don'chu worry  
> This is me coping n' shit
> 
> Anyways, I had this idea when I saw a forum discussing a train car from Stardew Valley which has a tag that reads "Seb was here"
> 
> This is also sort of an extension / spin-off segment of a very long, canon-deviating Sambastian backstory thing I've been writing in which I project *so* many of my very worst feelings onto our dear sweet Sebastian, but I'm still not sure if I'll share that one or keep it to myself. Not even sure why I'm sharing this one since it's so damn dark. Guess once it's out of your head you realize it might be concerning to leave it be?
> 
> I feel as if this is essentially me ripping a page from my diary and tacking it up on a bulletin board anonymously. 
> 
> ¿Estoy un poco loco, no? 😹
> 
> If you at all relate to the intense feelings of suicidal thoughts and ideations, I'll be leaving a crisis hotline link in the end notes. Though I recommend you not read this at all if you find that this content triggers your own mental illness(es).
> 
> Enjoy my personified pain, I guess?  
> Proceed with caution.

It was almost time.

Sebastian hadn't needed to think about when or where or how he could pull it off. Not even in his current state. And his body definitely felt those pills by now, especially on an empty stomach. Easy enough to accomplish. It's not like he hadn't considered it before. In his mind, this was his best option.

As a kid, before he'd even began school, he would make his way up to the station when he heard the train coming through the Valley. There had been no corrupted intentions back then. Even with all the pain and confusion his child mind couldn't seem to properly process, all he'd hoped to do was sit back and watch as the huge, metal cars rolled by as the conductor blew the whistle all the while.

There had always been something mesmerizing about it.

After some time, kid Sebastian managed to learn the train schedules. He'd written them all down and taped them to his wall by his bed so he could have something to look forward to. By middle school, the paper was merely decor. He knew the rails by heart.

It was a good place for thinking, feeling and eventually, doing bad things that no one else knew about. Within the dark confines of his windowless basement bedroom, there was only so much potential.

As he got older and sadder, he preferred to be alone more and more. Things never got better. In fact, they regularly got worse. His downward trend never plateaued, only dove deeper and deeper at a seemingly endless rate. He'd spent his entire life sinking and the waters had a looming, bottomless pit. Slowly but surely, life would suffocate him.

He supposed that's what was happening now.

Sitting alone on the steps of the train station in a drug-induced daze, he welcomed the darkness that consumed his thoughts.

Right now, he was certainly drowning. Every single hurt was pulling him deeper and deeper, making him certain this was the right choice. Or maybe that was the alcohol. Though being intoxicated managed to clear his head best, so that had to mean he was on the right track.

Logically, it would be easier to go through with everything without the anxiety he'd usually feel on top of it all. Instead of his thoughts running a mile a minute, his head was full of static and echoes from the past that served to push him further.

There was no fear to do it. The pain in his chest was too persistent to endure, and he could only numb it for so long. It practically nagged him to get it over with.

In many ways, these thoughts were soothing in comparison to the ones he'd be otherwise inclined to go over. If he wasn't consumed with anticipation of the bitter end, he'd be thinking of everything else.

He'd be thinking of his childhood self. Of four-year-old Sebastian feeling confused and saddened that the man who was supposed to care for him showed him so much hatred in so many ways.

Or six-year-old Sebastian feeling inexplicable shame, left to wonder in agonizing silence what he did so wrong that made him deserve punishment so bad he couldn't tell his mother about it.

Or eight-year-old Sebastian, having accepted his fate to live in constant terror, but it all hurt so fucking much.

And somehow, it never stopped hurting. Nothing stopped hurting.

Even when the truth came forward, the damage was done. Pain was a part of Sebastian's identity by then. How to take it, how to hide it and all the maladaptive ways he dealt with it. But soon, he wouldn't have to deal with any of it.

So far gone by now, Sebastian was practically swaying with the frosty, winter breeze of night, though he could no longer feel the bite. The flush in his cheeks was a combination of the cold and the booze, and his face was too numb to feel the hot tears dripping down his cheeks. He wasn't even aware enough to notice them. Feeling had gone out the window hours ago.

Physically, there was only his slow, heavy heartbeat pounding in his ears. Mentally, there was only a mantra playing over and over like a scratched record.

_Do it. Do it. **Do it.**_

It was much better this way - letting it take over. The primal mind would never get stuck on such rediculus things as hope. Those kinds of things had no standing in the life of a person like Sebastian. What would the point be?

He'd spent long enough hoping for things, and they never came.

Ever since Sebastian could remember, he'd hoped to feel some sense of belonging. He'd hoped that someone - _anyone_ \- would show him a sign of true, unadulterated caring. He'd hoped for some resemblance of peace in his life. Admittedly, he'd come quite close at a point.

In middle school, when Sam moved to the Valley, he'd practically saved Sebastian's life. Sam had no idea, of course, but it was true. The moment they'd met, the bright-eyed blond had breathed new life into the shell-shocked Sebastian. He simply understood things and made you feel like everything you told him - or _didn't_ tell him - mattered.

Whenever Sebastian felt unwelcome in his own home, he knew he could feel welcome in the presence of his best friend. He could bare his soul to that boy and feel secure in that the things he shared were kept safe between them. Sam _did_ care about him. But that only made it more painful when he realized the extent of which _he_ cared for _Sam_.

Sebastian cared for Sam much too much for either of their own goods. Sticking around to lead a miserable existence for one person the way he did had never proved to be very sustainable. Because no matter how much he cared for Sam, it didn't change the fucked up truth. And caring for - no... _loving_ \- him was slowly eating away at Sebastian from the inside out. Like some kind of parasite.

And maybe it wouldn't if things were different. Maybe he wouldn't have to feel so guilty about it if Sam felt the same way. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if the word _faggot_ didn't roll off so many malicious tongues. Maybe it wouldn't feel like a poisoned dagger to the heart if he hadn't bore witness to Sam kissing Penny in a tree one day.

Maybe.

But things remained the way they were, and entertaining any hope from his fantasies would be nothing more than a pipe dream. This was the price one had to pay for daring to hope for something like that. Becoming unhinged over it all was inevitable.

Besides, how could a used-up _nothing_ like him ever get a chance like that? Normalcy simply wasn't within his reach. Security didn't belong to the people who's brains managed to find a threat in everything.

So he downed his benzos with a bottle of _whateverthefuck_ and waited to get it over with. Attempting to check the analog clock at the station proved useless as his vision was too blurred to make out the time. But he knew subconsciously that his train was coming. And this one quite literally had his name on it.

If he wasn't numb to it all, he might've felt excitement.

Much to his shock, rather than the sound of the train he'd been expecting, he was alerted by the sound of his phone ringing in his pocket. For a moment he couldn't fathom who might be calling him at three-forty-something in the morning. He had to strain his brain to recall what exactly he'd done before now, and once he did, it managed to make his pulse jump briefly.

_Sam._

It was the only thing that made sense if his stupidly sober actions had any say in it. Yoba, he should've gotten drunk sooner.

While making his final decisions, one of them was whether or not he should provide any last words for anyone. He felt it wouldn't matter for the majority of people he knew. Effectively pushing them away had served its purpose in getting them to leave him be, and likey, to stop caring what went on with him. Therefore, it was likely they wouldn't care if he left them anything to read.

Except for _one_ person.

That damn ray of sunshine would easily find a way to blame himself. At the very least, since he couldn't help but care, Sebastian had to make it clear that Sam was the _last_ person at fault.

He wondered if he should write something for Abigail too, but he could see that backfiring. Certainly, she'd try to stop him. She would be pissed at everyone. She'd probably be pissed at him too, even after. And in a lot of ways, she probably would have the fewest questions about why he did what he did.

Her disappointment he could make peace with, but crushing Sam? That would easily hold him back.

Sebastian had seen first-hand what it was like to crush someone. His mother could pretend it hadn't, but finding out all the gorey details of his deepest darkest secrets changed the way she perceived him forever. Especially when it involved her ex-husband - Sebastian being the spawn of such a disaster. It had never been his intention, but he didn't want a repeat of that tragedy.

This time, he had agency. And he planned on using it.

The note he'd left was in the form of a text, having an explanatory tone. What with the depressants taking their toll, he couldn't remember all the things he'd said. Only a few key notes.

_What I do is not your fault._

_Everything will be better off._

_I have to do this._

_Should've done it sooner._

_Remember that I love you._

_I'm sorry._

His phone was going off incessantly by now. It was breaking him out of his self-induced stupor - making him _think_ \- and that simply wouldn't do. A twinge of guilt coursed through him when he sent the call to voicemail and clumsily dialed 911. Not because he changed his mind, but because it was going to be a sight no one should have to stumble upon. Essentially, he was calling the clean-up crew.

_"911, what's your emergency?"_

Sebastian's brain was running in slow motion. Finding any words proved to be difficult. "Uh... you need to... send someone..."

_"Are you in danger?"_

"Not... not for long." Sebastian reasoned. "You need to... pick up a body."

Finally, he started to hear the faint blow of the whistle in the distance. No one would be able to stop him.

_"Have you witnessed a death?"_

"... No. I'm... I'm going to die." Sebastian began to stand up, stumbling over to the tracks. "It's gonna be messy... so... you need to send someone."

_"How are you going to die?"_

"Gonna kill myself." he admitted, dropping to his knees in front of the rails to lay down and positioning his head over the metal, phone pressed to his ear. "It's my choice."

_"Can you tell me what you're doing right now?"_

"Waiting..." Sebastian sighed, staring off into the dark tunnel. "You can't change my mind."

_"Does anyone know where you are right now? Is there anyone around you can talk to?"_

Ignoring the beeping indicating Sam's repeated calls, Sebastian huffed out a hollow laugh. "No."

_"Why have you decided to kill yourself tonight?"_

"Because..." Sebastian thought about all the various reasons he came to this conclusion, suddenly becoming nauseous. "Because I'm nothing."

Perhaps it was laying down that caused it, but he suspected it was the question as well when he was forced to sit up as his stomach lurched and he vomited into the snow. Some of the pills he'd taken earlier made their way back up. Along with blood. The white of the medication and the red of the bodily fluid mixed together to form a sickening pink foam. Shuddering, he brought his phone back to his ear.

"I don't wanna talk about it."

With that statement, Sebastian hung up before the operator could ask him more questions.

There were plenty of reasons he had to do it. But none of them were things he could talk about.

No one wants to hear all the ways in which the world has done you wrong. Bonus points the more grotesque you can get - and he easily could. People keep secrets for reasons. _Very important reasons._ Hell, the only reason he wasn't dead from the overdose alone was his hidden dependency. Who would wanna talk about things like _that_?

Not Sebastian. Certainly not.

In fact, he didn't want to be made to think about it, either. So he laid his head back against the tracks and closed his eyes, listening. Waiting.

His phone was still ringing, but at this point he had forgotten why. Thinking was making him confused. No thought seemed to stay in his head longer than a minute. Other than the one thing he had to do - sit and wait. That was easy. It didn't require thought.

After awhile, all the sounds around him were muffled by the heavy heartbeat in his ears. Which was fine. Gave him something to focus on. It might almost lull him to sleep if he wasn't so _focused_. His eyes detected a bright light hitting his face in spite of being closed and he sighed in relief.

He wasn't scared. He wasn't worried. He felt calmer than any other moment he could recall from his life.

Hopefully, everyone would come to understand that in the end. This was his _choice_.

Soon, it wouldn't matter. It would all go away. He just had to wait.

_One._   
_Last._   
_Moment._

**Author's Note:**

> Just in case you needed it: https://www.mentalhealthline.org/?n=8445494266
> 
> I didn't write this to make suicide seem like a good idea. I wrote it to force myself to analyze the reality of what I'm feeling and think about it in a clearer mindset. I wrote it because it's true that a lot of people think these kinds of thoughts while standing at the edge of their sanity (or lack thereof). I wrote it because it's too easy for people like me to get back into these loops and convince themselves that maybe this is truly our only option.
> 
> As I tend to be, I want to own every gruesome bit of it. And I'm not going to be sorry for that.
> 
> Chi pisa la chike  
> 拜拜 [bài bài] ！


End file.
